Settling in Darkness
by InnocentGuilt
Summary: Jim being blind isn't really that challenging unless they make it so...slash, Kirk/McCoy, h/c, me as an author. It's not mine, just so you know. Hope you like.
1. Chapter 1

The touch is firm but fumbling, not how it used to be but commonplace by now. Fingers snake over his charcoal uniform, reaching from behind and grabbing tightly at Leonard's sides to make sure he doesn't move as he steps closer. Leonard just stands still, letting the man behind him search and connect with him.

Jim has always been a tactile person, always touching, always probing, always reaching out. It's just how Jim is, even from their first round at the Academy. Still, it's soared to new levels and, though, Leonard understands it, these moments where he has to stand so still while Jim comes to him are a stab to his heart.

Jim is pressed against his back now, warm and solid like no sun-soaked rock could ever be. His lips land bump against Leonard's uniform first, and Jim lets out an irritated huff that ghosts wetly across the doctor's skin, but then Jim's plush, slightly chapped lips meet his skin and the tension lets out of his body, even though his fingers tighten where they're come to rest on Leonard's hips.

"I'm never leaving this spot right here again," he whispers raggedly, nuzzling his nose behind the doctor's ear, making him shudder. His hand slides under Leonard's charcoal jacket, and for the first time since Leonard came home, since Jim came carefully towards him, still mindful of the furniture, Leonard feels Jim smile. "You're wearing your Ol' Miss t-shirt."

It's one of the few of his shirts—uniforms excluded—that Jim can recognize by feel alone.

Leonard stands still for a few more seconds as one of Jim's hands wanders up, looking for the zip to the doctor's jacket. However, after a few painful seconds, at one point feeling like Jim was trying to choke him instead of devest him of his overcoat, he brings his hand up to cover Jim's. The once-captain makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat, but lets Leonard guide him the few centemeters over to the zip.

"I'll get it one day," Jim says, more frustrated than light, though he does make a valiant effort. He unzips the garment and Leonard lets him take it and throw it off in the direction of the couch.

It misses and Leonard will have to pick it up later so that Jim doesn't trip over it, but his general aim for objects he can't see has improved considerably.

"Don't stress about it. You're still getting used to this."

His tone is stressed, even to his own ears. He doesn't want Jim to get used to this. He shouldn't have to get used to this. He shouldn't have to need Leonard to stand so still, and he shouldn't have to work at finding a zip, or making a jacket land on the couch. Leonard should be able to fix this, but he can't. He can't and it tears at him as Jim strokes at the fabric of his Ol' Miss shirt.

Jim whooshes out a deep breath, his head landing on Leonard's shoulder with a little less grace than it used to. "Yeah, I know. It'll come to me eventually."

The words are slightly dejected, working what would usually be an upbeat statement into a punishment.

Leonard turns in Jim's grasp, upsetting the newly annointed admiral's—youngest one in history yet again at the ripe age of thirty-two—resting place on him. Jim looks up, his eyes still unbelievable blue despite the fact that his pupils have slowly taken on a milky film. When Leonard cups his jaw, there's a slight start, but not much. Jim can still sense him, even if he isn't always sure what Leonard is doing.

Leonard opens his mouth, but Jim cuts him off with an impatient flap of his hand.

"You think too loud, Bones," he says with a fondness…a sadness he only ever reveals in the confines of their apartment. "It wasn't your fault. We knew there was a chance of this back when we were taking classes instead of teaching them. We knew if my vision worsened there would be no way to reverse it."

"Never predicted you'd go blind, though," Bones grouses, resting his forehead to Jim's. "Shoulda seen this comin'. Maybe I coulda…"

"There wasn't anything you could've done," he intercepts. "I'm allergic to the only vision correcting medicine in the universe."

"But…"

"Shut up…" Jim says pressing his lips to Leonard's, firmly putting an end to their conversation. His hands wander under the t-shirt—the one that Leonard may have dressed in to make Jim's day a little brighter. There's a smile creeping over Jim's lips when the doctor pulls him closer. This is something they're still good at. They're at the same playing field because even when Jim could still see they still stumbled and tripped over themselves.

"Don't worry about it, Bones," Jim tells him later in the night, as his fingers trail over Leonard's bare chest, mapping, relearning, no longer just a quirk of his personality, but something that he needs. Leonard rolls his eyes, the thought of 'that's likely' roaming over his mind until Jim continues, pressing his head carefully closer to rest on top of Leonard's head.

"I can still see you."


	2. Chapter 2

"Bones?"

"Yeah, Jim?" he calls out, still moving around in the kitchen, preparing something for dinner, even if he isn't positive what he's going to make with pork, mustard, and an apple. He and Jim really should make an effort to go shopping more often, but somehow, between the classes they teach, the shifts Leonard works, and the meetings Jim always seems to be attending, it's difficult to make it to the store. He stares down at the three items on the counter until he hears Jim step into the kitchen.

He's a few feet away, and tossing what looks to be an old-fashioned rubber bouncy ball up in the air before catching it again, a real feat considering he can't see the damn thing. Jim stands there for a few seconds, looking off in the vague direction of the sink.

"Take four steps north-east. Keep you're arm out and you should run into me."

Jim smiles and does what Leonard recommends, extending his hand as he takes a few steps. When his hand brushes up against Leonard's sleeve his smile grows. His hand glide up the doctor's arm over his shoulder and to his neck where he grabs hold and hauls Leonard in for a kiss. "There you are," he says happily.

It took a few months, but Jim is finally used to his inability to see. He can navigate their apartment, and when he has his extendable cane, he's good to go in town, though he likes to whap people with the bamboo stick just for fun. Leonard watches it, with a shake of his head. He still feels guilty, feels it scratch at his conscience when Jim trips over something one of them forgot to pick up, or when he consciously feels the counter for the coffee pot and carefully tips it over his coffee mug. It's a little better, though. Together they relearn how to live together with Jim not being able to see a damn thing and Leonard's guilt.

It's getting better.

Jim reaches out around the counter, feeling the mustard bottle, the package of pork chops, before his hand rests on the Granny Smith apple. He takes it for himself, taking a happy bite out of it. "What're ya makin', Bones?" he asks around a mouthful of half-chewed fruit.

Leonard rolls his eyes. "I have no fucking clue. We really don't have much."

"Mm," Jim acknowledges around another mouthful of food. "Le's go out then." He shrugs like it's no big deal, and maybe it isn't but, honestly, it seems like too much of a hassle.

The doctor looks at the food he has on the counter, weighing the option. He could make the best he could of the pork chops. He's sure that he has some spices, but really they have no vegetables and there's nothing else in the fridge. He and Jim could go shopping after they go out, and honestly…they haven't really gone out in a while.

Jim had issues with wandering around town just after he lost his sight, so the fact that he offered to go out now…

"Alright, darlin', where do you wanna eat?" he asks, pushing away the fact that he's spent the day at the hospital teaching interns that it really is a bad idea to give Vulcans chocolate pudding, and no, if you try to give an Andorian morphine they will try to hump you. Jim wants to go out, so they will.

Jim smiles around the apple he's just brought to his lips again. "I want McDonald's."

Leonard stands there for a second.

It's a second too long. Jim goes on, trying to wheedle Leonard into it. "C'mon, Bones. I haven't had McDonald's in two years. Evil fast food chains won't kill me if I have it once every two years."

He stares at Leonard with imploring, sightless blue eyes that are actually directioned somewhere over Leonard's right shoulder. The doctor sighs, even as he's giving in and resting his hand against Jim's side. "We can get McDonald's this_ one time._"

Jim smiles and brings their lips together again. "Bones," he laughs, his eyes aimed towards the ground when they pull apart. "You spoil me."

Leonard lifts Jim's chin, and even though Jim's eyes don't settle on him, specifically, it's the thought that counts. It's always the thought that counts. "That's my job, Jim."

They share a quick kiss, directly after which Jim says, "It's a real shame you have to waste so much time on your second job when you could spend your entire day worshipping me."

Leonard smack's Jim's ass, and there's a bit of a jump and a loud laugh as Jim dances away with only a little less grace than he used to. And then his ridiculous blue eyes land_ on_ Leonard, not just around him and it's probably the first time in months. Leonard smiles, though Jim still can't see it, chasing after Jim.

His footsteps are loud enough that Jim hears him coming, and he opens his arms for Leonard to crash into him. Leonard presses their lips together and unlike the first two…three time, this kiss lingers, because sometimes Leonard can't believe they've made it this far. Six years aboard the_ Enterprise_, many attempts to get themselves killed, Jim going blind, and everything else inbetween…

…and Jim still wants to kiss him.


	3. Chapter 3

Some days are understandably worse for Jim than others. There are days when he has to listen to his messages being played back at him where he'll just throw his hands up and yell, "I can't remember any of this shit!" Days that he hears the whispers behind his back about 'Poor Admiral Kirk. It's a real shame,' and those piss him off because he lost his sight, he didn't die. There are days when he trips over his shirt that he didn't think about when he threw it off the previous night and forgot about in the morning and he curses and kicks at the offending garment that wouldn't have stumbled over it if he could just fucking see it!

So, when Jim stomps in to their apartment, throwing his extendable cane across the room in a fit of frustration, Leonard knows it's one of_ those_ days. His eyes flicker around spasmodically, and it seems to piss him off more because the view never changes, always darkness. He stomps off towards their liquor cabinet, fumbles with the bottles within until he finds his tequila and he just takes a long pull from the bottle, not even bothering with a shot glass.

He pulls the bottle away from his lips and swipes viciously at his mouth. "I fucking hate this day. I'm going to have it deleted from the calendar." He pauses for a second and then tilts his head back to gaze sightlessly at the ceiling. "Fuck my life, please tell me you're on the couch, Bones."

Leonard, who had been sitting just where Jim thought he would be and watching the display with furrowed brows, nods pointlessly. "I'm here, Jim." He's relieved when the admiral relaxes a little, but still not enough to put the tequila down. "What happened?"

Jim answers with another gulp of tequila, making a face that's probably more to do with the burn of alcohol than his day but Leonard could be wrong. He takes a deep breath, a scowl marring his handsome if aging features. "One of the cadets thought it would be funny to rearrange the layout of my classroom," he says. "I walked in and nearly broke my neck when I fell over a damn chair. I couldn't find the remote to my slide screen. Apparently, rearranging the furniture wasn't enough because they switched around everything in my desk. It was just a shit day of relearning my own fucking classroom."

"They did_ what?"_ Leonard all but yells, standing angrily and stalking over towards Jim. His inner doctor is already in control as he reaches his hands out to check Jim for any sort of lingering injury.

It's a real testament to how far Jim has come when he just glides out of the doctor's hands without thought. "I'm fine, Bones."

"Bullshit, you are. Those little fuckers…" Leonard gets his hand around Jim's arm and pulls him close checking from head to ribs before the admiral forcefully shoves him away.

"I'm_ fine_, Bones! There is no rushing fluids anywhere. I still have coherent thought. And this happened at the beginning of the day anyway. Had something been wrong, I think I would have noticed it by now."

He probably would have, but that didn't always mean he would have sought medical attention. No matter what, sight or no, Jim is still himself and prone to downplaying anything that could be contrued harmful to himself. The admiral takes a few steps back and walks around Leonard to the living room, where he promptly plops down in his chair and takes another drink from his bottle.

He's silent for a few moments and Leonard watches him with worry eating at his face. When Jim speaks there's a tiredness to his tone that always denotes that no matter how much he gets used to being blind, he'll never get used to the repurcussions that come with it. "I really hate having to rely on normality to get me through the day. Spontaneity used to be my bread and butter, and now something so mundane as having the classroom layout rearranged is too exciting for me."

Leonard sighs. "You're still spontaneous, Jim. For God's sake, you woke up an entire dorm of command track cadets at four in the morning just take them on a tour of San Francisco, which by the way, I stand by my opinion that showing them the best bars in town is_ not_ an actual tour." Jim smirks at that, because in his mind, yeah, it so totally is. Leonard shakes his head fondly, but goes on with his little speech. "It still doesn't make up for the fact that some things are cruel. You're blind," –this may be only the second or third time he's said it so upfront, and it still tastes awful and feels heartless even after a year—"and doing something like that could have seriously injured you. They're lucky you're too nice to go seeking out the perpetrator."

God knows, Leonard was ready to.

Jim smiles, all tight and false-agreement, meant to sooth Leonard but only serving to make his heart twinge just a little more.

Later, this will all be hilarious, and Jim will tell the story of his rearranged classroom to cadets in later years, and he'll tell everyone on the_ Enterprise_ when they hit Earth-side again. But right now…

Right now it hurts him a little.

And because of that, it hurts Leonard a lot.


	4. Chapter 4

"Bones!"

Leonard has been expecting that since about, well…that morning when Barnett had sent an Academy wide notice prohibiting pranks of any sort and promising that anyone caught participating in any sort of practical joke would be punished severely. Really, Leonard had thought Jim would check his messages earlier, or at least would have been privy to it in the staff meeting. Apparently not.

"Did you actually_ tattle_ to Chris?" he demands over their communicators. Leonard's so glad he had the forsight to take this comm in his office. He can just imagine how this conversation will go if Jim just used the word 'tattle'. "Jesus! It was a prank! We did them all the time when we were cadets."

The doctor sighs, and leans against his desk, holding his communicater in front of him. "Our pranks weren't potentially fatal to anyone, Jim. What these kids did could have seriously injured you." His lips tighten just at the thought and he seriously, considers tacking on 'the fuckers are lucky I didn't do a DNA search of the room.' Instead, he says, "If pranks are devolving to this level, there should be repercussions."

"So, you tattled to Christopher_ fucking_ Pike! The man's been a mother hen ever since we hit dirtside and you gave him_ ammunition?_ I can barely convince him to let me cut my own food!" Jim's voice shrieks—Leonard will never tell a living soul—through his communicator. "Bones, it's really sweet in its own twisted way, but could you let me handle my problems on my own from now on?"

Leonard isn't unaffected by the pleading tone in Jim's voice, but he won't be swayed on this. "Jim, I'm not trying to be your parent, but as a concerned bystander I couldn't just let this go without bringing attention to it. If you don't like it, bring attention to it yourself."

"You are so lucky we're fucking," Jim grouses, and Leonard spares a thought to hope that Jim is at least in his office.

But then his door opens, and one of his interns has this mortified look on his face. "Love you too, darlin'. Gotta go."

He clicks his communicator shut to the sounds of, "Bones, I'm not…"

Leonard returns home late that night and all the lights are off despite the fact that he can hear Jim at his console in the bedroom. There's an eery white glow coming from beneath the shut door, but Leonard bets that the bedroom lights are off as well. He's long since become used to this. At first, Jim used to order the lights on out of habit, but it fell to the wayside because it never really makes a difference to him. So now, on nights where Leonard gets home late, he always given a taste of what Jim lives in.

Darkness.

At least when he says, "Computer, lights fifty percent."

There's a slight whir throughout the apartment, and Jim hears it easily.

"Bones?" he calls from the bedroom. A few seconds and the dull sounds of footstep, then their door whooshes open. Jim pokes his head out of the door, and there's a brief flash of happiness before he covers it up with irritation, which if Leonard knows Jim is completely fake.

The doctor smiles and Jim's would-be scowl. "You still poutin'?" he asks, putting in a little more twang because he has an eighty percent success rate with his southern drawl. Okay, so that's really only due to the fact that they forget they're arguing, but an argument where Jim doesn't win is his by default. He makes his way toward their bedroom.

Jim steps completely out, and his echo-location is getting ridiculously good, because he only has to put his hand out at the last second to make sure Leonard is where he's supposed to be. "I wasn't pouting, Bones. I was expressing my displeasure at your actions."

Leonard smiles. "You been talking to Spock again?" he asks with a lift of his brow.

By the smile, Jim knows about the brow-lift. "He called just after you hung up one me. Which by the way, we aren't done with that…"

Leonard quickly and effectively cuts the conversation short by pressing his lips to the admiral's. Obviously, they were done with that argument because Jim doesn't even give a hint of protest. Instead, he brings his hands up to cup Leonard's face, holding him steady as he takes over the kiss, thrusting his tongue into Leonard's mouth, stepping further into his space.

"You're still in trouble," he breathes as he pushes Leonard against the wall, hands easily finding the zip of his jacket.

Leonard smiles, pulling the admiral's shirt off over his head and clearly resisting the urge to run his hands through Jim's already thoroughly mussed hair. "Y'gonna make me sleep on the couch?"

He dips his head to nibble and bite at Jim's jaw and throat and his answer is a moaned, "God, no. That's more of a punishment to myself than anything." Jim's already pulling at his belt with practiced hands that only fumble with the buckle.

Leonard doesn't bother to correct his assumptions. Some things are better left_ not_ feeding Jim's ego.

"I won't promise not to do it a-again," he stutters at the end as Jim has finally undone his pants. His head falls against the wall, but he continues to watch Jim through slitted eyes.

Jim just smirks, leaning in carefully to nuzzle Leonard's throat.

"You wouldn't be you if you did."


	5. Chapter 5

Jim's rainbow-lit fingers brush over the well proportioned tree in the corner of their apartment, lingering over ornaments, both homemade and bought for them over the years, as well as the black and silver string of beads and the soft, bright blue tinsel that matches Jim's eyes perfectly. His eyes light up in the soft glow of the corner when his fingers land on a small little bulb, red and glowing dimly in the darkness Jim never does anything about and Leonard had been too careless to rectify when he returned home after shift.

"Hey, the lights are on," Jim says jubilantly and his fingers dance up the small nearly invisible cord to find another one, green this time, to feel the heat coming off of it. Leonard hums tiredly from his place on their couch, torn between the beckoning call of sleep and watching Jim's child-like amazement with the tree. Jim looks over at him, using his sleep hum as a beacon. "I thought you said you weren't doing lights this year. Too much hassle or some shit."

It was actually more to do with the fact that Jim liked to stare at the lights, and Leonard hadn't been interested in something that Jim couldn't take joy in, but that is neither here nor there, because Leonard will never say that was his reasoning. "Yeah, some little upstart admiral threw a hissy fit until I changed my mind."

He sees the shit-eating grin flash across Jim's face, but it was somehow mutated into something else in the soft, nostalgic glow of the lights. It's not Jim's normal 'I got my way' grin that has been known to drive Leonard up the wall at times. It's turned soft in the dim lights, like he's just so happy to be there, touching the lights that Leonard hadn't even wanted to put up because he thought Jim wouldn't be able to appreciate them.

It's kinda magical.

Jim turns his head towards Leonard; his finger's lingering on the heat exuding from the orange light. "I'm sure the upstart admiral appreciates your efforts. He's lucky to have you around," he says, crawling on all fours until his hand brushes against Leonard's socked foot. His hand trails over the doctor's calf, over his knee and suddenly Jim is resting heavy and comfortable between his thighs.

It's sometime passed two in the morning and they've both been going crazy with the end of semester craziness that seems to be permeating throughout the Academy. Leonard has to be awake at six in the morning for his last shift with some of the cadets undergoing residency, and Jim has to be up just a short hour later so that he can make it to a meeting between the admirals.

They should really be sleeping.

They aren't though.

Leonard is actually sifting his fingers through Jim's colorfully highlighted hair while the admiral hums some odd holiday tune into the fabric of his jacket.

"You remember our first winter together?" Jim asks, his voice muffled due to his face being half-buried in Leonard's stomach.

"The one where you dragged us to bum-fucked Washington and we got snowed into our cabin for three weeks when we only had one to spare in the first place?" Leonard grouses tiredly, amusedly, still carding his hand through Jim's hair. He can feel the admiral's breathing slowing, evening out, as well as the slow huff of laughter and slight nod. Leonard smiles leisurely. "Three of the best weeks in my life, why?"

Jim runs his hands over Leonard's thighs. "I was thinking about it all day. Joanna will be here in four days, and she's only ever had a Georgia Christmas. Has she ever seen snow?"

The doctor hums in lazy thought. "Y'know, I don't think she has."

"Everyone should see snow at least once in their life." Jim rubs his face into the material of Leonard's jacket. "Let's go up to Washington again. We'll have a ridiculously cliché Christmas that's all white and I'll teach her how to make a fire in the fireplace. It'll be fun."

"Right up until one of you burns the cabin down."

"Then we'll be extra toasty," Jim counters with a satisfied smile, because he knows he'll get his way.

Leonard has some hang up about Jim wandering around in the snow and ice with not but a cane to his name, but he knows, deep down somewhere in the caverns of his reasonable self, that Jim will be fine. Jim is capable, and with two McCoy's there to at least watch his every move nothing should go too wrong.

"I wanna go to Washington," Jim says when Leonard has failed to give him a direct answer.

Leonard doesn't mentions the fact that Jim sounds like a petulant child; he's really too tired to be much more than what he is…putty beneath Jim's hands. So he grunts with a tinge of commitment clouding his tone, and lets Jim have his way. "Then we'll go to Washington."

Tomorrow it'll hit him that maybe this has something to do with Jim reclaiming one of his sighted memories with a better memory of blindness. For now, though, Leonard runs his hands through Jim's nostalgic, Christmas-toned hair and lets his eyes slip shut for a brief moment that turns into a few minutes, until Jim is waking him in order for them to lie entangled and much too close for any real comfort on the couch.


	6. Chapter 6

Christmas morning is nearly the only time Jim will get out of bed before Leonard. Six o'clock in the morning has Leonard drifting in and out of to the sounds of Jim and Joanna in the kitchen. Once upon a time, not too long ago and possibly not too far into the future, that would have worried Leonard. However, still in the throws of sleep it doesn't bother him that much.

What does bother him is the ear-peircing shriek of his daughter declaring that it is time for breakfast. She got_ that_ directly from her mother. "Dammit, Jo," he grumbles into his pillow and then again as he sees the chronometer. It's seven in the damn morning. No one should be able to shriek like that at seven in the morning unless they're dying.

He stumbles out of the bed with less grace than a newborn foal and meanders down to the kitchen where Joanna is already sitting at the table and Jim is gently setting down the plates, his eyes staring vaguely in the direction of the table as if daring it to move. "Morning, Bones," he says when he successfully has all three plates on the table. He turns in the direction of the hallway, where Leonard is standing still not quite awake and glaring dumbly at the table as well.

"Mornin', da'" Joanna manages around a large bite of scrambled eggs. She's shoving food into her mouth before she can even finish chewing the previous bite, and Leonard isn't sure if it's because of Christmas morning or the fact that her metabolism is stuck on turbo which means if she doesn't eat an entire meal every two hours she's practically turning inside-out and threatening to gnaw on furniture.

Leonard grunts, still standing in the entrance way stupidly until Jim passes his hand over Joanna's short-cut hair, feeling the texture of it as well as using it as a sign for where her chair is as he moves around it to move towards the doctor.

They've been at the lodge in Washington for a week now and Jim's pretty good with the layout, but the complexities of having a teenage girl around, no matter how much she tries to consider Jim's inability to see, is that there are surprises left randomly around the lodge. Thusly, the admiral walks carefully and a little slower than he normally would and reaches out with his hand. Leonard immediately latches onto his hand, telling him silently that it's smooth sailing the rest of the way to the doctor.

Jim is still in his pajamas that his mother had sent to the three of them to open on Christmas Eve. They're obnoxious and if Jim could see them he would smile like a loon because the damn things are lime green with little reindeer all over them. They're warm, though and the lodge is chilly even with the thermostat set on broil, so Leonard is grateful for Winona and her weird taste in PJ's.

Really, Joanna has a hot pink robe-pj-slipper set that has cats of all things printed all over them…

Jim's fingers glide over his own pajama shirt—his have little snowmen on them, but thankfully his are mostly a bland blue—until they reach his neck and he's given a Christmas morning kiss, which are somehow more sentimental than every day morning kisses.

That's enough to wake him up and have him a little more coherent. He leads the way back to the table and settles down to his cooling breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage links, and toast. "Who made breakfast?" he asks, not sure which would be more terrifying, his little girl or blind partner at the stove.

Jo answers proudly around a mouthful of toast and eggs, "I made the eggs. Jim made the sausage and toast."

"We made sure to have the fire extinguisher nearby." Jim waves vaguely behind him and Leonard sees the little extinguisher sitting by the sink. That was mostly for Joanna, who even while being happy to cook by her 'favorite step-father' was probably watching Jim's every move with bottom lip between her braced teeth. Worry is a McCoy family trait. He takes a bite of his eggs and says to Joanna, "These are really good, baby girl."

The nickname was only ever to be used by Leonard and Jim, apparently, because Jocelyn always complained about how they could use it when she couldn't.

Joanna smiles and preens a little. "It's the cheese. Always make scrambled eggs with cheese and a healthy dose of salt."

At this point in time, Joanna is firmly convinced that cheese and a healthy dose of salt can cure everything from the blues to cancer.

Jim smiles in her general direction, obviously thinking the same thing that Leonard is.

Joanna is completely finished with her breakfast before Jim and Leonard are even half-way through their own. She doesn't stay to chat with them, instead shuffles—it's hard to run in slippers—into the living room where the distinct sound of presents being sorted and arranged into three neat piles can be heard. Jim and Leonard are left in silence only broken by cutlery against cheap ceramic.

Leonard takes the rare silence to indulge in watching Jim. It seems odd to him that Jim can find every scrap of food on his plate, even after so long. Jim can't see where that little piece of sausage scattered off to, but his fork stabs it perfectly and pops it into his mouth. Leonard can see and he still runs the chance of flinging food off of his plate.

And then, of course, the sausage that Jim had speared so perfectly is sent flying across the small distance to smack Leonard in the chest.

"Stop staring at me while I'm eating," Jim says with a triumphant smirk because he knows he's made a direct hit. "It creeps me out."

Leonard rolls his eyes. "Infant. You coulda just said something."

"And waste my awesome skills?" Jim smirks at him, his eyes kind of flickering around the dark air where the doctor is sitting. He pops his piece of toast into his mouth with a happy smile. "I dun tink so," he says around his food as he pushes away from the table and wanders into the den, where Joanna can be heard separating gifts into three piles.

Leonard can hear Jim asking where he's supposed to be sitting and Joanna giving simple directions ('Take about two steps to your right and then pop a squat on the couch.'). There's some laughter after the sounds of a small avalanche. Leonard decides that his sausage can wait, as well as his post-breakfast nap that his body is seriously interested in.

Christmas beckons…at seven in the morning, but still…


	7. Chapter 7

There's what seems like three feet of snow on the groud in front of the lodge that Jim had rented for them and it glitters all the colors of the fading sun. Joanna is dressed in the heavy coat and ear muffs and building what could quite possibly be her fifth snow man with the thick insulated gloves that she borrowed from Jim, because the 'cute' gloves that she picked out weren't really good for anything other than show. She's giddy and laughing like she's four again instead of fourteen and it makes Leonard smile from his place on the heated, if slightly damp, step.

Somewhere behind him on the antique wooden bench, Jim sits with a book in his hand. It's in Braille; Joanna found it in one of the homey stores that a local family owns down in Georgia. Blindness isn't all that uncommon, but with the advances of modern technology, not many people read with Braille anymore when they can just have it recited to them. Of course, Joanna remembers coming over to their Academy dorm, later their apartment and just_ one_ time to the_ Enterprise_. She remembers seeing all of his old books and the special way he had settled her down on the floor beside him and let her hold them.

"_It broke my heart to think that he would never get to read a real book again, daddy."_

So, his little girl, thoughtful and compassionate down to her core, bought Jim whatever she could in Braille with her stepfather's money. It kinda made Leonard smile. Jocelyn, it turns out, even joined her in her mission, searching all over hell and back to find a 'beginner's book' to go along with Jim's new copy of_ Leaves of Grass_. The only one who seemed put out by the entire idea, apparently, had been Treadway, who, according to his little girl, had complained that 'this much thought into my gift.'

That put an even bigger smile on Leonard's face, because damn if his girls, past or present, weren't thoughtful women when it mattered most.

Leonard looked over his shoulder to see Jim hunched over his 'how to' book, his fingers ghosting along the pages. His brows are furrowed in concentration and there's a glimmer of what it was like before he lost his sight in the posture. His eyes still direction towards the book, even though he can't see it, and this astute look rules his face. His mouth moves slowly as he reads why little indented dots have to give him.

It's mostly small words. Leonard isn't great at it, but he's been a doctor long enough to have picked up some lip-reading ability, having had several parched throats, shell-shocked ensigns, and one stubborn, proud captain-turned-admiral parade through his medical zones. He can pick up some of the words, such as 'cow,' 'bad,' 'dog.' Small words, meant familiarize a person to what they need to move forward in their learning.

Leonard turns his head to the happy giggle and he sees his daughter smiling at her fifth, perfected replica. This snowman, as all the others has rocks for eyes, and a carrot nose—the carrots having been bought on their way to the cabin, thanks to Jim's foresight— and has sticks for arms, just like the others. Unlike the others, Joanna has fashioned a small insignia on the front of its thorax as well as a smile made from mint chocolate candies.

It's the Starfleet insignia, the one that Jim and Leonard both continue to wear on their chests at the Academy.

Joanna looks up and catches his gaze with her own soft, hazel eyes and her exuberant smile turns a little bashful, so much like that four year old girl left crying on the porch so many years ago when he and Jocelyn were still so bitter towards each other. It tugs his heart as she waves a little in Jim's too-big gloves before tugging them further on to her petite hands. She haltingly returns to her newest masterpiece, trying to make every insect-like portion of the snowman's body as round as humanly possible.

Leonard watches for a few seconds longer before hauling himself up from the step he had seated himself on.

The sun is sinking further and further beyond the horizon. The air picks up a chill and Leonard shivers, despite his several layers he's wearing. Soon, some of the locals will be starting fireworks up, because it's New Year's Eve. Their little corner of the world sinks further into the dusky paintscheme, making Joanna's auburn hair burn with fires she's never seen before.

Leonard takes a seat next to Jim, easily resting his arm along the back of the bench behind Jim.

"How's her fifth snowman look?" Jim asks, somewhat distractedly as his fingers repeatedly run over the little bumps in his book.

Leonard shrugs through his shivers. "It has a mint chocolate smile this time."

Jim's hand stops, and instead of concentration his features have morphed into confusion and now realization. He picks his head up and yells in the direction of Joanna, "Those were my candies!"

Joanna looks up in shock before a brace-teethed, shit-eating grin that comes solely from Jim, despite having no relation, lights up her face. "I left you a few," she calls back mirthfully.

Jim waves his bare, slightly cold-pinkened hand at her, before settling it down on his book again.

Leonard moves his hand to rest on Jim's shoulder, rubbing soothingly. "How's the book coming?"

Jim fingers a few of the dots, before saying, "I'm really good at finding the number one."

He casts his eyes to Leonard, though they're just a little off to the right of him, and the doctor can't help but say, "Really? So am I."

It's only around nine but the lights are just now fading along with the warmth of the sun. Joanna is becoming more and more a shadowed figure in the yard of the lodge, somehow ethereal in her army of sparkling white-blue snowmen. They can hear the ruckus of some of the younger lodge dwellers coming out to joing the nippy Washington air to see the fireworks, whooping and hollering, probably having started the festive drinking around, say noon.

Leonard still sees Jim's contented smile even in the dark.


	8. Chapter 8

Jim is sitting in his chair, orchestrating a staccato waltz with his salad fork when Chris Pike joined them at their table, escorted, oh so kindly, by the seating host who looked like he'd rather spit nails than let anyone from Starfleet go unattended. Leonard is doing his best not to scowl at everyone in this ridiculously expensive restaurant and failing miserably.

Neither he nor Jim would ever have chosen to eat here. They're both pretty much meat and potatoes guys and this place will, no doubt, sprinkle everything they get their hands on with saffron. However, due to Jim's birthday, Pike had decided to take them out to dinner…and dinner is here, in a high class, silk table cloth, way too much cutlery, and way too much money for how little food they're getting restaurant by the name of_ Blue._ Leonard is firmly of the belief that the name was given due to the fact that's how most customers felt when they paid for their bill.

Chris takes his seat with a nod to the host, saying, "Sorry I'm late. My meeting with Archer went on forever." He puts his hand on Jim's shoulder briefly. "Happy birthday, Jim."

Jim smiles and waves his fork in Pike's general direction. "I'm glad you got here when you did. Bones was ready to call this entire thing off if someone else even glanced at him."

How Jim can tell people have been sending them glances, Leonard will never be sure, but it doesn't make it any less true. People have been looking over here for the entire fifteen minutes it took for Chris to make his appearance, and Leonard knows it's all for Jim, savior of the planet, blind. Jim has been ever-so-faithfully pretending he doesn't notice, but it's all Leonard can do not to chuck one of his unneeded spoons at the more obvious few.

It's another five minutes of small talk before a young woman with an upturned nose comes over to ask them what wine they'll be having, which Chris answers for them all immediately. Leonard doesn't fuss, and Jim doesn't say anything out of some new found politeness. She brings some breadsticks for them with a tight smile that says she disapproves of them somehow and then leaves them to debate over their menus.

"I want steak," Jim says after a few seconds of silence. Leonard peruses the options for Jim, reading a few aloud when he thinks Jim will have an interest.

When the waitress returns, she has her padd, ready to transmit the order to the staff in the kitchen. Chris and Leonard order theirs, however, by the end of Leonard's order she's still looking at him expectantly.

"And what would he like?" she asks with a stiff but gracious hand gesture towards Jim. Leonard looks at her feeling somewhat stunned and a lot perturbed. Jim's blind, not a fucking invalid and he'll be damned if he answers for him like so. Instead, he glowers at her, which of course she ignores because he's been throwing darts with his eyes all damn night.

She just stares at him, irritation caught in her own eyes.

After a beat, Jim draws everyone's attention and says, "He would like the porterhouse steak, medium rare. And if it's not too much trouble, he'd like to ask that you put onions on top. Oh! And could he get some more breadsticks? He thinks those are really awesome." Then he smiles at her, that smug smile he had given Nyota so many eons ago when they were partaking in the third take of the Kobayashi Maru. Even though he doesn't know where she is the effect is dead on.

She looks mortified and says with a quickly flushing face, "Uh, yeah. Just give me a moment…" before she walks away quickly.

Chris looks completely bemused as Jim picks up his fork to continue waving it around lazily. "Was that fun?"

"He thought so," Jim answers with a happy smile, leaning back in his chair. He turns his head towards Leonard. "It was either that or starve. Bones wouldn't have answered for me if his life depended on it."

Leonard doesn't say anything, but no, he wouldn't have.

If Jim's had…well, that paints a different picture.

Leonard takes Jim's hand and gives it a squeeze. "It's a good thing no one's life was in the balance."

Pike gives them both a look that says he almost kinda wishes he had failed them both when he had the chance. However, after a beat, he says all authoritative and parental, "Jim, stop playing with your silverware. This is a restaurant, not a fun house."

Jim sticks his tongue out, but does as Pike demands, choosing instead to make himself comfortable by simultaneously leaning on Leonard and kicking his feet onto the fourth, vacant chair at their table, that he had found when he accidently jammed his cane between the legs. He looks up at Leonard, or the ceiling really, and his eyes are blue and bright if slightly scarred with milky-grey irises.

Some quiet part of his mind wonders if this restaurant was named for Jim.


	9. Chapter 9

"You know what I miss most about sight?"

They're sitting in Jim's office while Jim has his computer read off really, really bad papers to him. He's had the program on pause for a few seconds, and at first Leonard had thought it was because he was mulling over a sentence.

Apparently not.

Leonard braces himself, preparing for anything, anything at all, be it that he misses being able to see words in front of him, or that he misses the feeling of writing instead of dictating to a computer. He braces himself for something that seems so simple yet will somehow cut Leonard down to his core without the Admiral ever being aware. Clearing his throat, somewhat loudly, he asks, "What's that?" even though part of him really doesn't want to.

Jim leans back in his chair, his fingers tapping a staccato rhythm into the arms. "I really miss being able to see your cock."

Had Leonard had something to choke on, it's almost guaranteed that he would have. As it is, he stares wide eyed at Jim, wondering where the hell this came from yet too afraid to ask.

Jim sighs. "You really do have the most perfect dick I think I have ever seen. I mean, feeling it is all nice and…well, it's actually a lot more than nice, but sometimes…I just wish I could see it again. Really, when you're hard and your cock is that delicious ruddy purple…you know, when I go down on you I can still taste that color."

"Sweet Jesus…" Leonard says, pressing his head into his hand, fighting a smile and the hard on that is burgeoning after Jim's apt description of it.

"It's true! Out of everything, I think your cock is the only thing I would sell my soul to see again," Jim says, matter-of-fact and not a trace of embarrassment.

"Darlin', your head ain't screwed on just right, is it?" Leonard asks, a smile forcing his lips up despite his efforts to keep it at bay. He sure Jim can hear it in his voice, is sure that the redness that seems to be seeping every part of his body,_ every_ part, is also apparent in his tone, because when he glances up at his partner, he's grinning ear to ear.

And then Jim says it, that heart-wrenching thing that doesn't make Leonard feel bad, per se, so much as…loved.

"I haven't heard your smile in a while."


	10. Chapter 10

Leonard is in the midst of beautiful, wonderful sleep the likes of which he hasn't seen since the cadets returned. It seems that they all love, really, really love being stupid. He sometimes forgets over longer breaks, but it always comes back to him like a smack in the face. He's been called in so many times over the past four weeks, his meals, outings, and most importantly, his_ sleep_ interrupted. He really despises the first years some days, almost as much as he hates the scouts who don't have the common sense to_ warn_ the newcomers that some people in the academy are going to mess with them.

So, he's sleeping, or should have been, but about five minutes ago, a most tantalizing smell slowly drags him out of his slumber, gently pulling on his senses until he opens his eyes blearily.

Bacon.

He smells bacon and it's almost enough to pull him from bed, especially considering…where the hell did Jim find bacon…and why the hell was he cooking?

There were very few things that Leonard considered too dangerous for Jim to do without supervision. Cooking was definitely one of them.

He was about to pull himself out of bed and hopefully find the some clothing since his had been shed rather rapidly the night before. However, before he had even pushed the blanket away, the bedroom door swooshed open and revealed Jim to him, holding a tray carefully level and coming towards him. It was easy to see he was counting the steps, extra cautious today because of the food in his hands.

"Bones? You awake?" Jim asks as he gets closer.

Leonard kinda grunts, watching the tray avidly and helping to guide it onto the nightstand by his head, which thankfully is clean, unlike Jim's side, littered with padds and Braille books as it is. He looks up at Jim, asking in a carefully neutral voice, "D'you cook?"

The admiral smirks, groping around to see if there's room for him on Leonard's side of the bed. "Yeah. Don't worry. I didn't burn the kitchen down."

Leonard snorts, but makes room for Jim to sit at his side. "Could give a damn less about the stupid kitchen," he grumbled. "Did ya manage to keep yourself outta harm's way?"

Jim holds his hands out in front of his body. "Yeah. No burns or anything." He flips his hands back and forth in the air to show both sides to Leonard.

The doctor makes a grab for the closest one, inspecting it critically and considering doing the same for the other. He dismisses it, because Jim is reaching out with slightly fumbling hands to grab a piece of bacon. He tears it in half, popping a piece of it into his mouth and holding the rest out for Leonard to take.

After finishing his half of the bacon, Leonard asks, "What's the occasion?"

Not that there really has to be one. Jim is prone to doing random, thoughtful things, like breakfast in bed, whenever it strikes him. It's how he learned to cook without sight at all. Randomly, he decided that he was going to make a hamburger patty and boom he could practically fry anything. But normally, if he isn't just testing the waters, there is a dedication behind his cooking.

Jim wraps his arm around Leonard, or really kind of slithers his arm across Leonard's shoulders and he leans into the embrace, still a little tired and more than happy to have Jim's strong embrace around him. The admiral rubs at his bare shoulder, saying, "It's an anniversary."

Leonard tries to think of an anniversary corresponding with the date, but he draws a blank. Jim celebrates so many of their 'anniversaries' while the doctor has a hard enough time keeping up with their actual anniversary.

Already forgetting about the cooling plate of bacon and toast, he asks, "Which one?"

Jim tightens his hold on Leonard, dropping his cheek down to rest against his head. "Doesn't really matter."

It probably doesn't. All that matters is that Jim has declared it an anniversary, one worth risking his skin for to cook Leonard breakfast in bed.

The breakfast that Jim so carefully made and brought into the bedroom is cooling, though they pick at it for a few more minutes. The toast is finished by the time they decide to return to sleep, though the bacon still remains on the plate. It's fine that way. Bacon is good, cold or hot. But sleep is better, much better considering they don't do this that often and it probably won't again for months to come.

"What was the ann'vers'ry?" Leonard mumbles halfway asleep.

Jim smiles lazily, his hand reaching out until it bumps against Leonard's hip. He pulls Leonard closer, resting his head haltingly against his shoulder. "First fight," he says and it's lost against the planes of the doctor's skin, but Leonard manages to make out what he says anyway.

He huffs out a small, derisive laugh.

The fight where Leonard came back…not that he didn't come back every time.

Jim_ would_ consider that something worth celebrating.


	11. Chapter 11

It's late when Leonard returns home, nearly two in the morning thanks to paperwork and inventory, not to mention his oh-so-diligent cadets finding new and inventive ways to dismember themselves. The apartment is completely darkened and he orders the lights up just enough that he can see the vague silhouettes of the living area, before toeing out of his shoes and shedding his gray teaching jacket.

The quiet of the place isn't so quiet. If Leonard strains his ears enough he can hear the soft dialogue of a holovid Jim must be playing. Gently folding his jacket over the back of a chair as he passes the table on his way to his room, he calls out for his partner, unsure if he's awake. There's no returning call.

Jim must have fallen asleep.

The doctor enters their room soundlessly, and sees the lights from the holovid falling over Jim's form. He's already stripped off his shirt and is lying cockeyed across their bed, one arm folded under his head for support and the other covering his eyes as if he could pick up the light coming from the 'vid. Towards the end of the bed there's one of his growing collection of Braille books, what Jim tells him is the complete works of Byron.

Leonard picks it up and closes it carefully, glancing at the 'vid screen, and trying to determine what Jim had set as his background noise. It's some romance comedy, classic guy falls for alien type thing that permeates through the 22nd century after Vulcans made contact. Leonard snorts, but leaves it playing as he sets Jim's book down on his nightstand.

With that done, and after he's stripped down to the bare skin he usually sleeps in, he slides up the bed. His hand immediately reaches out for Jim, touching warm, pale skin made lighter by the light glow of the screen. Jim shifts into consciousness rapidly, especially when he's turned onto his back, and his hand makes contact with Leonard's shoulder easily.

"_I had a dream, which was not a dream at all,_" he murmurs, and Leonard is sure it's a quote from some poem he read not long before hand, not that he honestly cares. Poems are Jim's thing.

Without hesitation, Leonard brings his lips against Jim's, tasting lingering sleep and contentment as Jim thrust his tongue eagerly between Leonard's teeth, curling his tongue around, trying to memorized that flavor forever.

Jim lifts his hips when the doctor grabs at his sleep pants, making a definite noise of approval as they're dragged off and thrown into the corner of the room—out of Jim's way tomorrow. He makes room for Leonard to settle perfectly between his thighs, trapping Jim's cock, making his squirm, search for more delicious friction.

It sometimes amazes Leonard that Jim reacts so strongly to him. Five minutes ago asleep, now more than ready for a late night excursion.

He presses kisses into every patch of glow-white skin he can reach without leaving the comfortable cradle Jim has ensconced him in, the sweet line of his neck down to broad shoulders before finding Jim's lips again.

They're both hard and panting into each other's mouths as they search for friction and if either of them had any common sense one of them would make Leonard grab the oil that's tucked neatly in his nightstand. As it is, Jim makes a graceless fumble for his hand, breaking his mouth away from Leonard's to suck two of the doctor's fingers into his mouth, quickly slicking them with saliva before breathing out, demandingly, "Don't tease, Bones."

So he doesn't. He prepares Jim swiftly and efficiently, relaxation from sleep easing the way.

In the shadows of their room, Leonard presses into Jim and the light seems to explode in the holovid, casting this entire scene into something horrifically poetic. Leonard can only see the beautiful light that spreads across them; and Jim can see nothing but blackness.

He presses open mouthed kisses to Jim's heated skin, not caring how most of them turn into messy trails of breath and saliva, and knowing Jim doesn't either by the way he grips and strokes Leonard's skin, hauling them closer together, before reclaiming his mouth in a jumbled mess of half-humorous misses and gropes, punctuated by hitched breaths and stuttering moans.

Leonard shifts slightly, and Jim reaches to stroke himself, which excites the doctor endlessly. Somehow he finds nothing sexier than watching Jim bring himself off while he rocks into him. It's almost unfair and he would beg Jim to stop for just a few seconds longer if Jim hadn't made the most amazing keening sound that always spelled the beginning of the end.

It's really cliché how the 'vid turns off just as they climax, spiraling Leonard into darkness where he and Jim are equals in all ways in this one moment, devastated by their orgasms and grabbing in darkness for an anchor to hold onto.

They're both breathing heavily. Leonard can hear it and feel it as he rests his head on Jim's chest, not caring of any mess. After a while, Jim's hand reaches up to smooth at his sweat-damp hair, long fingers catching on a few snags here and there, but altogether appreciated.

In the darkness left over from the screen and orgasm, they slowly relax. Leonard finds himself sinking into sleep, knowing they should wash before falling asleep again, but too god-honest happy to be right here. Jim's hand slows in his hair, resting finally between his shoulder blades.

"Much better than dreams…" He hears vaguely, but it's lost in the onslaught of sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

It comes on suddenly one week during their second tour. It had, in all probability, been going on for a while, but it comes to a point where Jim is suffering from a migraine so bad that he's stumbling into Sickbay, his hand cementing the well-traveled path because he can't stand to have his eyes open even a little. He tells Leonard that he needs something and he needs it_ now_ and really that's all the doctor needs to hear because Jim has only ever asked for pain medicine when he's about to pass out from the pain. The hypo gets rid of his headache…the disappearing peripheral vision lingers.

Its day seven of the exact same routine before Leonard breaks Jim down enough to have a test run on him. His contacts aren't a strong enough prescription anymore, which is most likely causing the missing sight. He tells Jim to take it easy, while shining a light in one eye, then the other. He still has reaction. The captain of course doesn't take it easy. Never does, even at Chief Medical Officer's orders. He forces on and Leonard watches with a deepening scowl and a gnawing in his stomach.

By week three, Jim's peripheral vision is gone, and he haltingly tells Leonard that it's not a migraine he's suffering from. His eyes feel as if they're burning right out of his skull. Leonard runs more invasive tests, much to the captain's chagrin. What he finds turns the gnawing in his stomach into vicious bites and causes him physical pain. Jim's optic nerves seem to be degenerating, quickly, fraying and disintegrating before Leonard's very eyes. Jim asks what's wrong when he calls in Doctor Chapel from one of her patients, insisting that she take a look as well. She confirms his fear.

Week six, and Spock, McCoy, and Chapel have been reprogramming the nanobots. There's not much else they can do. Chapel has suggested nerve transplants, but optic nerves are too sensitive to go carting around space and by the time they reach a space station whatever transplants they have will likely be on their way to not working, never mind what will become of Jim's ability to receive the nerves. Spock suggests that perhaps they could try to rebuild Jim's nerves, instead of a transplant. The problem with that is there's really not much to rebuild. The nerves are little fraying like hamburger meat. Leonard and Christine are damn fine doctors, but there are limits to what even they can do, but the nanobots can try.

Jim sits patient in the fourth chair, craning his neck to see every little thing because at this point he's down to tunnel vision. He has no suggestions, not even hindering jokes…and Leonard already misses them.

Forms go fuzzy in Jim's eyes before Leonard and the other two can properly program the nanobots. He only sees lights and blurred figures flitting around in front of him. He lies down on the operating table, and before Nurse Jayne puts him under, he tells Leonard to lean in close, closer…stop. He stares at Leonard for copious moments, breathing in and out. His eyes flicker over what must be every single nuance of the doctor's face, finally settling on his eyes for heartbreaking seconds before he gives the okay to be put under.

Week eight passes and it almost seems that the nanobots are working. They seem to cobbling Jim's frayed nerves back together with ease. Jim stays in bed with nearly constant supervision to make sure he actually stays where he's supposed to. He has a mask wrapped firmly around his eyes, to keep the light out.

And then week nine.

Leonard wakes the heart-stopping sound of Jim's agonized screaming. He jerks upright, ordering the lights on which make Jim's screams louder. The captain is scrubbing at his eyes, the mask torn off and lost somewhere Leonard doesn't care to notice. All he can think of is to stop Jim from scratching at his face. He grabs Jim's hands in a vice grip, wrenching them away from his face. He makes soothing noises to Jim, doing his best to reach for a hypospray while holding on to Jim's fighting hands. His screams have mutated into choking sobs and tears slowly trail down his face…and…and his tears are red.

Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.

He and Christine flush the nanobots from Jim's eyes, but it's too late. They're damaged more than they helped. Spock is trying to decide where the programming went wrong, his passive face pinched more and more with each passing second. Leonard and Christine try to find if there's anything left to salvage. There's nothing. The nerves are obliterated, and the nanobots, which had worked their way into the eyes itself have destroyed the cones and rods, scared the retina, turning Jim's pupils a milky gray.

Leonard holds Jim's hand until he comes too, gripping hard enough to bruise. When Jim awakens, Doctor Chapel is there to do standard procedures. She checks vital signs, reflexes, and shines the light in Jim's eyes and this time…

There's no response to light.


	13. Chapter 13

Jim's been in a mood since about ten minutes after they arrived at Winona's farmhouse. Winona isn't there. She won't be home for another eight months. However, Sam and his family are back on Earth and there's really no room at the Kirk-McCoy apartment for two adults and two little kids, and Jim doesn't like to make them stay in a hotel. So he and Leonard took the week off to come back to Iowa.

Leonard's in the kitchen, and Sam and Aurelan's older boy, Peter, is sitting on the floor next to the old-fashioned stove, leaning most of his weight against Leonard's leg. He doesn't know how it happened, but Peter has taken a great liking to 'Uncle Len'. Then all of a sudden Jim comes stomping in, startling both Peter and Leonard as he stumbles over a chair.

"Jesus, motherf-"

"Jim," Leonard cuts in quickly. "Peter's in the room." He gives a quick glance to the little boy looking up at him with wide innocent brown eyes that come straight from Aurelan, but then he looks back up to Jim, who looks to literally be biting his tongue to keep from cursing up a storm in front of his nephew.

He takes a deep breath and pushes the chair under the table with only a little more force than necessary. "Sorry, Petey."

"S'ok, Uncle Jim." He takes a look at the admiral, critical of him in much the same way Leonard is. "R'you okay?"

Jim nods. "I'm fine, champ. Just a little angry."

Peter stands from his place against Leonard's legs to move over to Jim. Jim hears him easily, but he waits until his nephew is in front of him, tugging on his shirt in the kid's way of saying 'don't kick me.' "Are you mad at daddy again?" he asks, because Jim and Sam have been fighting like cats and dogs for nearly three days straight.

Sam can't seem to stop hovering around Jim, guiding him, babying him, moving things out of his way, and Jim gets pissed off at it, which makes Sam pissed off at him. It's a lovely circular pattern that's been going on since Jim lost his sight. Leonard and Aurelan have the duty of making sure their respective Kirk doesn't go attacking the other, and for the most part it works.

But Aurelan has her baby and that's more demanding than squabbling siblings who both seem to have an ego issue. And Leonard…well, he loves Jim but he's not gonna keep intervening. Nothing will get solved that way.

Jim sighs and runs his hand through Peter's blond hair. "Don't worry about it. It's just what we do."

That's probably not the best thing to say to a four-year-old boy who just received a baby brother into his own life, but Jim's thoughtless words to the little boy are better than some of the others that he's heard come flying from Jim's mouth. Jim takes a deep breath and looks down in the direction of his nephew. "Can I steal Uncle Len for a few minutes?"

Peter looks to seriously be considering this, but finally nods, saying, "Jus' have him back by movie time."

After he's galloped out of the kitchen, Jim calls for him.

"I'm over by the stove, darlin'."

Jim walks over to him, his hand out in front of him until he brushes against Leonard's arm. He sighs and steps closer, hovering in Leonard's personal space and staring towards the ground with a frown on his face. They stand in silence for a few seconds, and then Jim says, "It's really not terrible…being blind."

"I know that, Jim," he responds, ignoring the wiggle in his heart when he hears those words.

The admiral nods shortly. "I know you know. You're the only person that does, but I can't make Sam or Aurelan or hell anyone understand that, so I'm going to tell someone who actually listens." Leonard leans back against the counter, dragging Jim closer to him by his belt loops. "It's dark," Jim continues. "That's really the only thing. I can still do everything I used to do. I can still cook; still read, still go on walks_ by myself_…I just do it in the dark. I'm not broken, and I don't need constant supervision, and if I stumble into something it isn't as if I didn't do it when I could see. Trees are sort of becoming my enemy, but compared to Klingons most people would say that's a vast improvement. I know you would."

He gives Leonard a small smile, which he can't help but return even though it's not seen.

"It's just dark," Jim says again. "Nobody pities people when they walk across the room when the power's out. Nobody should pity me just because the power's never coming back on."

The power's never coming back on…Leonard sighs, putting his hands on Jim's narrow hips. "I don't think Sam even realizes he's doing it, and while I agree that's not any good excuse, I think he's just worried about you."

Jim snorts. "When my brother, my very emotionally challenged brother, is out worrying you something is very wrong. This is the guy who didn't even flinch when I broke my leg. Suddenly I can't see and he equates it with the idea that I'm dying."

Leonard grips a little harder. "I know, but you only see him maybe two weeks every year. Maybe keeping that in mind will make it a little easier to bear."

Jim snorts but rests his head gently against the doctor's. "Depends on if he tries convincing me that Peter needs to go on my walk with me."

He smiles. "I'm pretty sure that was to get his kid out of his hair for a few minutes."

Later, they sit down in the family room and Peter is missing for a few seconds, but he finally crawls into the room on all fours, which is odd for the boy because he's been up and going since he learned to walk. However, the cause of this is because he has his mother's sleeping mask on over his eyes.

"What're you doing, son?" Sam asks from his place on the floor. "Why're you wearing that mask?"

Peter shrugs as he makes contact with the couch an crawls up slowly and sitting beside Jim. Jim does something he doesn't ordinarily do, and reaches with his hand to see what Peter is doing this time. When he feels the mask, he smiles.

Peter bats at his hand, pushing it away as he answers his father. "I wanted to see like Uncle Jim." He pauses, thinking hard for a moment with his bottom lip pushed out. "It ain't so bad. Kinda dark, but I'm not scared of the dark."

Jim's eyebrows rise up, as does one of Leonard's. They wonder if perhaps he didn't wander too far away when they were talking in the kitchen. It doesn't matter though. It's…really kinda sweet and Leonard can see Jim's face relaxing as he holds his nephew a little closer to him.

Sam looks between Peter and Jim, sighing and shaking his head. The pity is still in his eyes, but there must be something quite momentous in this moment, because he smiles too.

Between them, Leonard takes Jim's hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.


	14. Chapter 14

The_ Enterprise_ has shore leave on Earth and it's just in time for the spring holiday. Most of the campus has cleared out. Leonard only has some inventory to do, but his Head Nurse at Starfleet Medical had proclaimed that she would not spend all of Spring Break counting gauze. She had turned truly militant and between her and some well placed grousing on Leonard's behalf inventory had been finished at the record speed two days. This of course meant that Leonard had five days of half shifts that he timed in order to match Jim's meetings and course planning, which in turn means, they have as much time as they want to spend with their friends.

Spock and Nyota won't be in San Francisco until the end of the week. Nyota went to go see some of her sisters in Africa. Chekov had gone off to see his family until Thursday, and Sulu was doing an exploratory adventure in Korea to look at some extraterrestrial flora that the Korean scientists had been breeding with local flora. Scotty was in town though.

His family in Scotland had planned an off-planet vacation before they knew that the_ Enterprise_ would be docking this week. Scotty says they had offered to cancel, but they almost never got off planet, and they were going to Risa. How could he make them give that up?

So, Scotty is hanging out with them at the Kirk-McCoy apartment. He's sitting in Jim's chair, a glass of scotch in his hand and regaling them with stories of missions gone haywire—because apparently it isn't the Kirkian syndrome; it's the_ Enterprise_ syndrome—and giving glimpses of life without a slightly crazy, daredevil captain, as well as including them on the lives of their friends, friends they don't see that often. Jim sits beside Leonard, soaking in all the information, laughing at the antics of a mostly crazy Scottish engineer.

Leonard is surprised to see that a look of longing never crosses his features, just enthrallment, or shock at a story about Spock letting the crew get away with something they so shouldn't be getting away with. He always thought that Jim would kinda resent not being able to go into space anymore, but he doesn't even look like he misses it. He still gets to go to other planets for Admiral's conferences and dignitary meetings, but it's not the same thing; it's not the same adventure.

He snaps back to himself, when Scotty nearly howls, "Jim! Jim, m'laddy! Ye have to make me one o' your sandwiches. I willnae leave this apartment until I have one!"

Leonard snorts. "All these years, you still haven't figured out how to replicate Jim's sandwich."

He'll never tell Scotty that Jim doesn't do anything special to the sandwiches. It's all in his head.

"I've bloody well tried!" Scotty exclaims, leaning forward in his seat with a look of earnest. "I've done ev'rything I can damn well think of, but I cannae…the good Admiral does something…I just cannae make 'em like he does!"

Jim smiles and pulls himself out of his seat, heading towards their little kitchenette. He moves a little slower than he normally would, having been reacquainted with the fact that Scotty has a drop everything as you go personality. He nearly trips over the engineer's boots, but manages to save himself just in time.

"Bollocks!" Scotty proclaims, looking over the side of his chair. "I always forget that you cannae see where my shit is."

Jim laughs again. "Don't worry about it, Scotty. I don't mind that you forget."

Leonard knows it's the truth. He would rather people forget that he can't see, because it's seems like those who always remember, who are always conscious of it, coddle him. Leonard, however, would appreciate it if Scotty just kept his belongings by the door.

Scotty meets his gaze briefly, looking chagrinned, but Leonard doesn't call attention to his fleeting annoyance. Instead, he hauls himself up off of the couch, following his lover into the kitchen. Jim's sandwich really isn't that difficult to make, but they had actually gone shopping over the weekend, so there is an assortment of things in the cooling unit.

Jim has the bread out, the pan already on the stove. He's going through the spices in the cabinet, Leonard having helped the admiral put Braille labels on all of them so that he could 'see' what he was cooking with without sniffing it. Leonard makes a grab for the pickles, ham, and cream cheese from the cooler, setting them on the counter for Jim before he takes a seat at the table, where Scotty has sneakily settled himself.

"Make sure he doesn't watch me, Bones," Jim tells him.

Scotty quickly shifts seat so that he can face the opposite direction of Jim. He doesn't try to be sneaky, doesn't try to see what Jim uses on his sandwich so that he can replicate it. It's probably like a game to him, trying to figure it out himself, without peaking to see what Jim does.

Leonard catches Jim's smirk as he lines up the ingredients. He spreads butter onto six slices of bread, stacks them carefully on a plate in the corner. He takes a few pickles out of the jar, patting them down to get the juice off, does the same thing with the ham. He stops when he gets to the cream cheese, hand on the tub, finger gently tapping against the lid in contemplation. "Bones, will you do this part? I don't wanna rip the bread."

"Sure, Jim." He walks over and carefully spreads the cream cheese onto three slices of bread, the opposite side of where Jim has buttered them. He sets them down, saying, "Kay, Jim, you're good to go."

Jim surprised him, turns his sightless gaze towards Leonard and pushes his lips out. Usually, he doesn't enact public displays of affection in front of many people from Starfleet, considered it to be inappropriate in front of colleagues, even if they are close friends. But Jim has decided it's okay as of right now, so he leans forwards and give Jim a brief peck on the lips.

Jim smiles. "Thanks, Bones."

Shaking his head and walking back to the table, he returns, "No problem."

Scotty fills up the silence of Jim's cooking and Leonard watching carefully. He burbles in a near one-sided conversation only broken by Leonard's grunts and Jim's 'Really's.

When Jim is done, he cuts the sandwiches diagonally. Scotty, giddy as hell, bounces over to the plates and helps Jim take them to the table, his ass barely making contact with his seat before he's taking a large bite out of the pickle, ham, and cream cheese sandwich. He makes a delighted noise, chewing slowly, savoring this moment.

"Christ in a cute little hand basket," he moans sinfully, as if he's getting a blowjob instead of eating a strange concoction of a sandwich that Jim came up with then he was a miscreant in Iowa. "Lad, you should start your own café and serve this as the main dish. I swear ye'd never have trouble with business."

"I'll keep that in mind if being an admiral ever loses its shine."

"Even if it never does…" he swallows another bite down, and points at Jim, even though he can't see it. "If'n I ever care enough to get my own ship, I will find a way to demote you and make you my own personal sandwich chef."

Jim laughs, loud and boisterous, shaking his head. "Whatever you want, Scotty. Just make sure Bones can go too."

Scotty tells him that won't be a problem in the slightest, but Leonard just smiles to himself, hooking his foot behind Jim's ankle under the table.


	15. Chapter 15

They are meeting Spock and Nyota at a small little café just around the corner from the Academy. As it had turns out, Jim had been called to an impromptu meeting with Barnett last second so he's running just a little late. He had told Leonard to go on without him, saying he'll call a cab and meet them there as soon as his meeting is over.

This is why Leonard is catching up with Nyota and his favorite hobgoblin, talking over a few glasses of water while waiting for his partner to show up and completely spice up the fun.

Nyota tells some of the same stories that Scotty had, but it's not quite in the same giddy way that speaks of her finding each situation as funny as the crazy engineer had. She speaks with more of an exasperated air around her, sometimes rolling her beautiful brown eyes. Spock every so often will make an interjection, not out of logic but something from his point of view, filling in some details that his bondmate is not so familiar with for the fact that she had been on the ship.

Leonard chuckles after one comment from Spock, a long winded explanation as to why a peace treaty had failed between the Venians and the K'Teirs and had ended with him and several of the away crew hiding in a swamp. "Y'know, you used to harp on Jim about always leaving the ship when he was captain."

"I find that some tasks are best handled by the captain of the ship as a means to ensure Starfleet's sincerity in the matter. Many planets send their highest ranking official to meet with us and I feel it only suitable that the highest ranking official on the ship meet with them as well. It is only logical." He carefully picks up his water and takes a measured sip as Leonard regards him.

"Logical," Leonard concedes. "But not exactly condoned by Starfleet."

If Vulcans would stoop low enough to shrug, Spock's shoulders would be up to his pointy, little ears. "They are not explicitly prohibited by Starfleet either and thus there are no repercussions to my actions. A captain's place may be with his or her ship but that notwithstanding…"

Leonard cuts in with a smug grin. "You get bored?"

Spock stares at him with ridiculously calm features. "That is not what I had intended to say, Doctor."

Ah, and that's how Leonard knows he's right. Spock had stopped calling Leonard 'Doctor' damn near the second after they had all gone camping together in Georgia and Leonard had stopped his little mare from bucking him off. Spock only really referred to him as 'Doctor' if he felt obnoxious and being called out on something was reason enough for Spock to get snippy.

Leonard's grin grew. "You were gonna imply it though."

A small silence and Nyota looks between the two with an amused smile. Finally, Spock, back stiff and straight, says, "I have no comment on the matter."

Leonard laughs, and Nyota smothers the upturn of her lips despite the fact that her eyes glitter too brightly to ever hide her amusement.

It's about then that a young waiter comes over, issuing Jim behind him. Leonard is pleased to note that the man doesn't seem to harp over Jim, has only extended his elbow for Jim to latch onto as he's lead through the maze of tables. "I do believe this is your party, sir," the kid says, leading Jim to the last chair available between Leonard and Spock. The only thing he does is pull it out for Jim to take hold of, and then he asks, "Can I get you a drink?"

"Water," is all Jim says and the young man is off to fulfill his order.

Jim settles himself, gives Leonard his collapsible walking stick before turning to his BFF and holding his arm out. "Captain," he says with a giddy smile.

Spock takes his arm in his hand, their version of a handshake without interrupting Spock's sensitive touch-telepathy. "Admiral," he returns with what could almost be a smile.

They hold onto each other for a few seconds and Jim tightens his grasp. It's apparent to most of them, that Spock still holds tight to his own guilt, much like Leonard does but without some of the relief. He doesn't get to see how okay Jim is these days. This is the first time they've seen each other since he and Jim took the shuttle back home, since about three weeks after Jim lost his sight with no way to regain it.

Jim doesn't let it breed between them. They don't have this that often. Guilt is not welcome in this meeting where friends have gathered after so long. Instead, he continues on, "Lieutenant Commander." He tilts his head toward her, and then just because Jim is the biggest ass Leonard will ever know, he turns to the doctor and says, "Admiral's concubine."

That earns him a sharp kick in the shin and he yelps, hand already reaching for his bruising skin.

Nyota laughs with an expressive eye roll. "You deserved that, Kirk."

Jim grimaces, still rubbing his leg under the table. "You think I deserve everything." He turns his sightless gaze towards Leonard, a small pout on his face, though he'll deny it until the end of time. "Did you have to kick so hard? Fuck, you never told me you were a damn kicker for Miss. U. football team."

Nyota scoffs. "Don't be such a baby."

"That's his line," the admiral says, pointing the vague direction of Leonard. He stops clutching at his abused appendage when the waiter comes back with his water.

They order some small things, not really hungry so much as wanting something to snack on as they waste away this afternoon. In between their grazing and sips of water, they catch up. They don't catch up on the_ Enterprise_, though that is brought up now and then. They catch up with each other. Despite the way Leonard picks at Spock and vice versa, and the way that Jim irritates Nyota, they were probably the closest of the bridge crew and they've missed this unique bond of friendship.

At one point, Jim says something about Nyota's outfit—hilarious in its own way since he has no fucking clue what she's wearing—and she flicks ice water at him, causing him to squawk, "Not nice to do to the visually impaired!"

At another, Spock pulls his own convoluted Jim-moment, and apparently is almost into revealing a very intimate moment between himself and Nyota, when she takes his hand in hers, a deadly smile on her face. She must have conveyed some form of torture upon him when she touched his skin, because he quickly and deliberately shuts himself up. Jim and Leonard laugh hard at that, Leonard's hand reaching thoughtlessly for Jim's thigh.

Jim teaches Nyota how to read Braille from his padd. It isn't the same as his paper books, and on his own Jim can't read them because the dots aren't raised from the screen. However, with some help from Leonard, who the admiral has been teaching to read Braille, they manage to teach her some of the alphabet. The entire time Nyota's eyes are bright and happy as Jim teaches her, and Jim promises her tomorrow he'll bring his book to their meeting so that she can learn like he has because, as Jim says, 'I think seeing the dots is a bit useless in comparison to_ feeling_ them.'

Not that Leonard thinks Jim would honestly know.

At the end of the afternoon, when Nyota says that they need to go sign in at Headquarters and look at a few things for the ship, they all hug, even Leonard and Spock though it is brief.

Nyota and Leonard hug, and while she has him in an embrace that would kill a lesser man, she asks, "He's okay, right?"

He pets her hair. "Don't you worry about him, Nyota. He's doing great."

It's the truth and she must feel the sincerity in his words because she nods and pulls away. Spock and Jim have just finished some sort of idle chit chat that to most people would be equated to discussion about trans-warp beaming.

It shocks Leonard just a little when it's Spock who initiates the hug, and even more so when three of his fingers brush against Jim's neck.

Jim grins, and mutters something that, from the side view the doctor gets, looks to be, 'Cheater.'

Spock says nothing as he pulls away. "I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Jim."

The admiral nods. "The feeling's mutual, Spock."

Leonard smirks at the bizarre healing ritual, but feels it fits them all.


	16. Chapter 16

He's on the couch with a book in his lap and his favorite holovid of the month on as background noise. It's late; the computer has told him three times in the last twenty minutes that it's various degrees passed midnight. For the first time in a long time, he's actively trying to stay awake, instead of giving into the press of sleepiness when he feels its call.

The din of nightlife isn't helping. He hears the lazy passing of hover cars, which would zoom to and fro during the day, and the insects and frogs the croak and sing outside his window. His neighbors are settling into a board game with their children, because Thursdays have been family night for as long as Jim and Bones have lived in their apartment. Not to mention the fact that he has been watching this movie on and off for the last three weeks, and that he's read this book twice since owning it…

He's losing the struggle of falling asleep.

He knows he should move to the bedroom, that he's not as young as he used to be and if he does manage to fall asleep on the couch his body will hate him in so many ways tomorrow. But…

But Bones isn't home yet. Hasn't been home for a week and a half. He had gone off with his old professor, Doctor Phlox, to an Interspecies Medical Exchange conference. Bones wasn't part of the IME, but he had been invited as an honorary guest for all of the headway he had made in the medical field, and had promised to give a speech at one of the meetings and the old Denobulan had been so pleased, Bones had said his creepy smile had split his face.

Jim doesn't doubt it. He remembers the creepy smiles that the Doctor Phlox was prone to breaking out in when something truly made him happy, though the details are becoming a little vague.

His fingers press against he words his book presents to him, trying to remember every crinkle on Phlox's face. He can remember a lot about the way they_ used_ to be, his tired mind gives him as an explosion rings out on the holoscreen. He can remember brief things that used to strike him when he could see. Doctor Phlox's smile .Admiral Pike's shocked white hair. Uhura's hands. He remembers Spock's ever raising eyebrow and a million other things about the people he knows and loves and now can't see.

Not even in his mind…

Well, he can see them, but not the way they should be. He sees them the way they were a year and half ago. It won't make that much of a difference. A year won't do much to a person. Nyota may have another laugh line. Spock may have…Jim doesn't know. Spock probably hasn't changed that much. Scotty probably has a few more scars from working in engineering. But not being able to see those wrinkles and burns and whatever not, it makes it bittersweet.

The words mean nothing under his fingertips and the yelling he hears from his vid and the laughter from the apartment next to his are dull buzzing noises in his ears. He tries hard to imagine what they look like now, all of his friends, his family. But he can't. He can't make time work properly in his mind, can't age them correctly.

When he had been able to see his mother, they had gone months without speaking to each other and each time he had seen her he never really appreciated the gray that laced her hair, never noticed the growing wrinkles. Now the few times she's able to visit, he can't see any of that.

He can't see Sam or Aurelan, save for the way they had been two years ago when he had still been captain and the_ Enterprise_ was in for repairs after her first five year tour. Peter had only been two then, and it's hard for Jim to imagine how he's changed, to imagine him taller and with thinner features. He tries to morph his nephew in his mind, tries to decide if he's a carbon copy of Sam or if he has softer features like Aurelan. He can't even try to imagine what his younger nephew, barely six months old, looks like. Can only imagine little Peter's pictures when he tries to imagine Jacob.

The door swishes open, and he tenses for a moment, lost in the dark memories of people he can't see smile, or frown. He almost thinks that his apartment is being broken into, but then he remembers. He's waiting for Bones.

"Bones," he calls into the noisy apartment. "Baby, is that you?" even thought he can already tell be the cadence of the footsteps that, yes, it is Bones.

He moves his head around towards the door, a habit he doesn't think he'll ever be able to break. The next thing he hears is the lights whirring on. That's a habit he had all but forgotten about.

"Yeah, Jim. It's me," he hears the doctor grumble and Jim can hear the exhaustion and pride in his voice as he comes closer. "What are you still doin' up? It's one thirty."

Bones walks into the living room, his dress shoes still on by the way his steps 'tap' more than they 'thud.' The couch dips beside him, and he can feel Bones' presence. Its not the same as being able to look over and see him, but his head turns towards the motion anyway.

Bones is the only one he can keep up with, can imagine with a few more gray hairs and a couple more frown lines. He can see his lover aging, and he clings to that. He doesn't know what he'll do the day he stops being able to see Bones in his mind.

A shift in the couch, a subtle shift behind his head as Bones places his arm behind him. "Jim?"

"I was waiting for you."


	17. Chapter 17

Leonard doesn't always get it right. In fact, in his life he has been a pretty good example of not getting it right. He knows he's not the only one. Most the people who matter in his life are prime examples of not getting it right, and he supposes that's how they all ended up together. They all share a twisted bond of not getting a whole lot right in their life.

But sometimes, a fair number of times that Leonard will never be able to forget or atone for, he will stray from 'right' into 'Major Fuck-Up,' capital letters not only suggested, but demanded. He would switch from bastard right into soulless asshole and he would do it with such grace and cutting clarity that it would fly right past his attention until he was where he was now.

Sitting alone in his apartment for the third night in a row with his communicator on the table, hoping that tonight will be the night that Jim will let him in again.

Because he'd stepped over the line. How and when was fuzzy.

He remembers how their fight started. He had still being in the 'not getting it right' stage and when he's like that he knows every detail. Could probably parrot back all the harsh words said on both his and Jim's side better than a damn recorder. He could pinpoint what was said to prod Jim further and how Jim retaliated with even sharper blows, because the admirals been fighting all his life and he kinda has the motto that fighting dirty has a better chance of winning.

He even knows the exact moment he crossed over from bastard to soulless asshole. He had very frankly and ruthlessly said, "Well at least I can fucking_ see_ it, Jim."

It's after that when things kinda become blurry to Leonard. When the doctor can cross over into such cruel statements when they fight, it's only fair that Jim unload the big guns too. Leonard knows they said some hateful things, and whereas he could probably pull out some things both of them said he really doesn't want to. He's never quite sure how something so small can escalate into the hurricane-force throw downs they can find themselves in every year or two, but damn if he wishes he had the mental clarity to sidestep them, to steer clear of Major Fuck-Up land.

He wishes this not just because he really, really hates fighting, but because when he manages to stray into Major Fuck-Up, Jim leaves.

It takes a lot for Jim to leave.

Jim is the fighter. Leonard is the leaver.

Even though Leonard comes back a sparse hour or two later, there is always that underlying and nauseating truth.

Leonard is the one who leaves.

He supposes that's why he's never sure what to do when Jim is the one to walk out the door. He knows better than to chase Jim. A Jim who's chased is a Jim that quickly becomes invisible. Leonard may be a mass of nerves about the fact that his blind partner is out who knows where in San Francisco, but at least he keeps his communicator on and sends a small pre-recorded message saying he's still alive. He knows better than to follow after him. He knows better than to ask any of their earthbound friends. He knows better than to do much more than he has been.

Three days spent either at the medical center or on their couch in a half-lit living area, hoping that tonight will be the night when Jim comes home or calls and just in general doesn't stay gone.

He knows that after what he said—'_Well at least I can fucking_ see_ it, Jim'_—he wouldn't quite blame Jim if he made Leonard suffer for a month or two. He knows it's not enough for Jim to call off their relationship, but a good long stretch of silent treatment…why the fuck not?

His stomach churns at that thought and he puts his head in his hand, stroking his tired eyes in an effort to stay awake. Maybe if he can make it until 0130, Jim will call and this can be one step closer to being over.

It's 0416 when Leonard feels something run lightly along the length of his jaw, catching on his stubble, brushing across his lip.

"Jim?" he mumbles dreamily.

"Hmm?"

His eyes fly open at the answering hum of his partner and he sees Jim there, standing above him with a curious look on his face and eyes gazing off somewhere into the lamplight he can't see. He has so many questions about where he's been, if he's alright, if he's staying…fuck, is he staying? But he won't ask those just yet because what's really important is that he apologizes first.

He covers Jim's hand, now resting on the side of his neck, and looks into eyes that don't see him as he says, "I didn't mean to say that. I don't even…I can't…I would never intend to make you feel like you're somehow less than me just because…"_ I couldn't fix you_, that's how that was going to end, because throughout this entire ordeal, three days of hell hoping Jim would just come back, his days were spent kicking himself on saying that to Jim when he was the one who couldn't save his eyes in the first place.

Jim chuffs a short breath of laughter, not humored but just…tired it seems. Tired just like Leonard. He shakes his head, pulls his hand away from the doctor's skin to run it through his massively disheveled looking hair. "I get it, Bones."

Leonard hopes he always will.


	18. Chapter 18

"Close your eyes," Jim demands.

They've run off to the park in the wee hours of the night, because, well…they were both awake, and Jim told Leonard they were going to the park. So, they did. Leonard grabbed a few blankets and Jim grabbed a canister of water and they pretty much set up in the middle of the park away from the highway and swing sets and nearly into a small wooded area where no one was likely to see them.

Jim has been lying on his back for some time now, with his hands pillowing his head and Leonard has been on his side with another blanket wound up and stuffed under his head. Leonard has been having a small affair with the sandman, drifting in and out of full consciousness as the cooler night air glides over his face and through his hair.

At Jim's command, however, his eyes peel open to stare into the scarred pupils that gaze just past him. They haven't been speaking for most of the time they've been lying on the ground. Really, all they've been doing is enjoying the rare silence of the night and it seems strange that Jim would order his eyes shut, when he must know that Leonard's been close to falling asleep for the previous fifteen minutes.

He clears his throat, wiping away the remnant of sleep. "Why?"

Jim's reply is nearly instant, carrying a small bit of mischief. "Because I said so, Bones."

"Jesus… fine!" he grumbles with a roll of his eyes that Jim can't even see yet somehow knows is there if the smile is anything to go by. He grudgingly does as Jim wants him to do, shutting his eyes.

"Keep them shut," the admiral tells him, and there's a slight rustle of movement beside him, some unknown whispers of cloth shifting, before Jim is apparently straddling his hips. It isn't as if Leonard hadn't expected something like this to happen. He and Jim have been together for nearly ten years and if there's anything he does expect from his lover, it is that Jim will touch him in some way if the opportunity is presented.

Hands press onto his stomach, move upward across his ribs, pectorals, shoulders, before grazing along his neck. One hand slides to the ground above Leonard's shoulder, holding his weight up, while the other still brushes along his jaw and cheek, touching briefly the shell of his ear before his fingers slipped through Leonard's hair and back down his neck again. The doctor's hands grab for some purchase on Jim's hips, only to find bare skin twitching beneath his fingers, bare skin that earlier had been clothed.

"Jim, what the…" he demands, his eyes opening in order to glare at the man above him, but suddenly his mouth is otherwise preoccupied as that damn fool admiral meshes their lips together, sealing his words behind his teeth.

Jim kisses him urgently, languidly, instilling both a sense of vital need and trivial want and everything in between as he plays with Leonard's bottom lip, teases soft skin with his tongue and teeth, and steals breath away from him in the few seconds they part to breathe. Leonard is getting lost in the feel of Jim, always has despite familiarity that ten years of just this has brought them. It's almost as if with each year Jim kisses him, the further adrift he goes and he really doesn't want to come back to land.

And Jim has gotten his way. Leonard's eyes are shut and they stay that way as his hands travel over Jim's skin, feeling an entire world flourish beneath his fingertips ruled by his lover's skin, his scent, and the soft-harsh sounds that he makes. His hands glide over smooth planes of skin, dipping into valleys created by muscles and bones and every inhalation of Jim's is an earthquake all around him.

He actually feels bereft, lost, as Jim pulls away and he wonders if that is the feeling Jim underwent every time their connection stopped, every time they had to discontinue touch.

And then he does what Jim can't. He opens his eyes and he sees Jim and some of the connection is reestablished for him…

But not for Jim.


	19. Chapter 19

Leonard's PADD trills out an eccentric chime while he's doing paperwork in his office. It's an annoyingly chirpy ditty that Jim found in the depths of the intranet solely to piss Leonard off, but for the life of him he can't change it. Mostly because the little prick went into the settings and made sure it couldn't. He sighs and refrains from smashing his hand down on the fragile instrument, instead clicking open the message his lover has sent him.

_Your mom called._ It says.

And this can only be a bad thing. In fact, there are already the warning signs of a potential headache with the proper stimulus to turn it into a roaring migraine. He looks up at the ceiling to briefly ask any deity paying attention for help he feels he deserves.

_She still hate you?_ He sends back, hoping humor will lighten the mood Jim has surely gotten himself into. When his mother calls, Leonard has the uncanny ability not to be there. Emma McCoy always blames it on Jim, and it's only become worse since his blindness. Jim is the reason Leonard stayed in Starfleet. Jim is the reason Leonard went into space ('Well, he wouldn't have gone on his own!'). Jim is the reason Leonard is still in California. Jim became blind just so Leonard would feel obligated to stay with him. The list goes on. And of course, and least twenty-five percent of the time, when Leonard isn't there to answer, Jim is.

Why Jim doesn't ignore it, the world may never know.

The annoying tune comes again, and Leonard briefly toys with the idea of setting it to silent, but figures if Jim has suffered through his mother calling (which sometimes Leonard can barely stand to do), he can suffer through the obnoxiously happy tune.

_Fiery passion. She now blames me for taking Joanna for Thanksgiving. Expected but a bit delayed. She also wants to know if my being blind prevents me from cleaning. Is our apartment a mess?_

Leonard rolls his eyes. Considers calling his mother to yell at her, but decides against it. He's done as many rounds with his mother with no result. Hell, she and Jim have had their blow outs and nothing has changed. It would only serve to make his mother stick her nose up in the air and proclaim that Jim is manipulating him.

Well, he does, but talking Leonard out of paperwork in the perusal of more sex is hardly a strain.

_No, it's not._ He types back._ She's just being her cheap-shot self. Speaking of Thanksgiving and mothers, have you called Winona yet?_

He tries to take the subject away from his mother. He knows it probably won't work. Jim wouldn't have sent him a message if their conversation weren't crawling under his skin. He wants to know what his mother said, specifically, to get to Jim, but Jim probably won't tell him until a random moment when he won't even notice the affront done on his lover.

He stares at his PADD in wait, no longer trying to refocus on his paperwork. It doesn't go off for a few minutes, in which time, Leonard spins in his chair—which he just_ had_ to pick up from Jim—thinks about his mother and her hatred for any and everybody Leonard has ever felt good enough to love, and considers, once more, the possibility of calling her just so the irritating itch in his heart will go away.

The PADD chirps.

_I thought so. I told her that her new computer's resolution really made her look younger._ Leonard snorts._ I haven't called my mom yet. She said she'd be out of frequency until next week. I'll call her then. Don't stay too late._

It's the end of the conversation. Even if Leonard replies he'll be met with offhanded replies. It was honestly quicker than Leonard had thought it would be. Sometimes Jim would repeat their entire dialogue before they let the topic of Emma McCoy to simmer on back burner. Not this time, apparently.

So, Leonard sends back a simple,_ I'll be home at six with dinner._

He doesn't go back to paperwork. Instead, he does some rounds. He speaks to some of his patients and does a consultation for two of the cadets in Medical Track. They're upperclassmen, so they have it mostly figured out, but these two especially like to have his opinion more often than not.

Thankfully, there aren't really any emergencies that need his immediate attention. Doctor Pinette arrives early because she and her Engineering boyfriend have had another argument about scheduling compatibilities. He wonders how long they'll last, despite the fact that Pinette and Lieutenant Bryars have been together almost since they Bryars became a teacher at the Academy. It's a trifle matter to him, though, and he shrugs it off as he heads out towards a little Indian Restaurant.

Somehow, Indian has become the comfort food after conversations with Mama McCoy. Leonard doesn't know when it started, just that it was sometime on the_ Enterprise_, and that it was damned difficult considering generated Indian cuisine tended to taste like rubber.

When he steps into their apartment, he's almost shocked senseless to see that the lights are on. Jim almost always forgets to turn them on. Can't see anyway, no point in turning them on. He can hear Jim talking softly in their living room, and takes a few guesses as to who it might be.

He knows Jim knows of his arrival. Without his sight, his sense of smell and especially his hearing was hypersensitive. Gently, he sets the take away on their table and moves towards Jim's voice and the voice of a woman. Coming closer, the accent becomes clearer, her timbre recognizable and the words discernable.

"Don't take it personally, Jim. The woman's a bitch. Always has been; always will be," Jocelyn says with disdain, for him mother surely. She and Jim are practically bosom buddies ever since Jim has become earthbound.

Jim twirls in his chair, his eyes almost landing on Leonard as he spins his direction. "I know. I just never expected to be the hated child-in-law that stole someone's baby."

He feels a little something in his heart catch, and that uncomfortable itch within the chambers intensify.

Jocelyn laughs, a strange mix of understanding and sarcasm. "Jim, at least you live across the country from her. I lived four blocks from the evil harpie. She could come visit me and tell me face to face what a manipulative whore I was."

Ah, that had been a fun night, Leonard recalls.

Jim chuckles too. "I will keep that comforting piece of information tucked away forever." He stops his chair sharply, tells Leonard's ex-wife, "Bones is here. Wanna talk to him while I steal his chicken?"

He raises his eyebrow, looks back towards the table and weighs his options of hiding his food. The odds aren't in his favor.

"Sure," Jocelyn says genially. She says her goodbyes to Jim, tells him that she'll see him soon. Jim stands and makes his way over to him, kisses him briefly before whispering, "I really don't like your mom."

Leonard kisses his forehead in soft apology. "I know, but I don't think stealing my tandoori is the answer."

Jim smiles, eyes glittering different shades of bright and soft blues. "It'll have to do until I can get you in bed."

They both sport matching grins when Jocelyn starts yelling, "La la la la la la!"

.ststst.

A/N: I wanted to put something about this story. You have all given me such encouraging feedback for all of my chapters and you continue to do so even though I haven't posted in forever. I know several thought that chapter 18 was the last; and I would like to say that it very well could have been. I posted this story under complete because although I still love writing for Blind!Jim, each segment has the slight probability to be the last post. However, as long as I continue to get more ideas, I will continue posting.

That was really lengthy for what could be summed up in, "It ain't over, folks!"

InnocentGuilt


	20. Chapter 20

Leonard looks out the window only once the shuttle is firmly on the ground and he's been jolted out of a hazy sleep that he's learned to put himself in since Jim became Captain of the Enterprise. They've just landed at the Riverside shuttle port and from the small window in front of him he can see the gray, overcast skies and the downpour that's pelting down on the tarmac.

He frowns.

Winona hadn't mentioned anything about rainy weather, not that it is much of a problem, but Jim's just wearing his leather jacket and the rain will mess with his echo-location. They've thankfully packed the proper clothing for Thanksgiving in Iowa, because the rain will likely freeze overnight, if it hasn't started already. The pilot hasn't yet announced the temperature outside, but knowing Iowa climate, it's probably already hovering around two or three degrees Celsius.

It's already looking to be a long week.

He sighs at the thought of that, and murmurs to Jim, "Let me go out first, 'kay?"

Jim smirks, like he knows that's exactly what Leonard would say which he probably did. "It's just some rain, Bones."

He glares at his lover, knowing he'll be able to feel the weight of it. "I don't know what the temperature is, Jim."

His smirk grows. "It's seven degrees." When there's no quick comeback on Leonard's part, he turns his gaze towards him, points vaguely towards the man who's helping an elderly woman out of her harness and says, "I asked the attendant when you were napping."

Leonard snorts. "Of course you did." He spares a glance out the window again, doesn't really want to trust Jim's safety to an attendant who had probably gotten the generic report from an old console at the Golden Gate Shuttle Port.

Jim reaches for his hand, feeling down Leonard's sleeve until he grabs at his hand. "You can go first, Bones," he pacifies, giving his hand a bit of a squeeze before releasing him.

They untangle themselves from their harnesses and Jim waits patiently as Leonard goes down the pull-up stairway, testing for slickness or any sign of give as well as getting drenched in the rain. Jim just smirks and crosses his arms over his chest. Neither of them care that they're holding up a small line of people, and the people behind them seem unbelievably patient as Leonard turns in the downpour and says, "Alright."

Jim gives a small, playful smile and calls back, "You're not going to guide me down?"

He doesn't wait for whatever sarcastic barb Leonard might be itching to send back, instead grabs the wet railing and slides down like a five-year old before jumping onto the ground with a loud splash. He stands up straight and bows to the small crowd of people behind him who are chuckling at the antics. When he turns back towards Leonard he takes a gentle, careful step forward, belying his earlier tom-foolery as his hand fidgets next to his side.

Leonard shakes his head to himself as he grabs Jim's hand and guides him towards a building. These are the civilian shuttles, so they have to wait to grab their gear, unlike some of Starfleet's shuttle, where they have the ability to stow it themselves.

When they're both inside, Jim shakes the cold rain off of his form like an overgrown dog, saying with a slight tremor in his voice, "Well, that was a wakeup call." He takes Leonard's cold hand again, having dislodged it when he shook the raindrops off of him. "Do you see my mom?"

Leonard searches the little building, unconsciously rubbing Jim's hand between his own and giving both of them some semblance of warmth. He doesn't see her, but she sees them and it suddenly becomes apparent why he hadn't been able to locate her. He had been searching for a slender, short,_ long-blond_ haired woman in the masses.

Winona doesn't have long hair anymore and is no longer blond.

She does, however, come barreling towards them, yelling, "Len! Jimmy!" before she crashes into them at full speed.

She attacks Leonard first, grabbing him up in a tight hug, seemingly unable to comprehend the freezing cold water that is all over his coat and shirt. She gives him a kiss on his cheek, smiles largely as she pats his shoulder. Then, she's in front of Jim, guiding his hands to her face before capturing his in her own. "Oh, Jimmy," she breathes. "You haven't changed a bit!"

He has and they all know it. The last time Jim and Winona were together was a month after he lost his sight, and though he tried to put on brave fronts, it was easy to see that he wasn't sure how to live without seeing. Even if Leonard has been living with Jim, he can see the marked difference between the Jim he 'helped' off the shuttle and the Jim who had needed some amount of help even getting around their apartment a year and some months ago.

But Jim smiles, beatific and grand as ever. He catalogues her face—she's really the only one he's ever done that for. "You don't seem like you've changed." His hands wander towards her hair. "You cut your hair, though." He runs his fingers down the length of her hair, which stops just above her shoulders, plays with the soft ends, most likely filing this change away in his memory.

Winona's smile if anything grows. "I dyed it, too."

"What color?"

"Lime green."

Jim's hands stop and his brows fall in disbelief. "Bones…?" he asks, but Leonard doesn't get the chance to answer.

Winona steps gently away from her son, grabs his hands and rubs them between her own smaller palms as if she's trying to start a fire. "No! No time. I left Joanna and Jocelyn at the house to set up some rooms while I came to grab you two. We have to get a move-on."

She starts walking, but stops when she realizes no one's following.

Leonard has taken a step towards Jim, staring between the two suspiciously. "Jocelyn?" he asks, his brow raising as he stares between the two Kirks.

Jim shrugs, bewilderment on his face just as strong as Leonard's feels. "I didn't know either, Bones."

Winona just smiles. "She commed me the other day and asked if it would be okay. Apparently, Clay picked up a case a week ago."

Leonard still only stares. "You talk to Joce, too? Do you all talk to my ex-wife?" he demands. A thought comes to him that makes his face drain. "Jim, tell me Nyota doesn't talk to her. I couldn't bare it."

Jim reaches his hand out; settles it gently on his chest. "As far as I know, she doesn't."

Winona asks, confused. "Is this a problem? I thought everyone was getting along now."

"We are," Jim confirms, staring in the general direction of Leonard, his brows hiking up in question. "Right?"

Leonard nods. "Yeah. It's just been a while since I was stuck in the same house with her for a week…"

He's really not sure how to feel about that. He and Jocelyn have been on pretty good speaking terms for a few years and she and Jim have practically been best friends for a year, but Jocelyn is talking to his mother-in-law now and spending Thanksgiving with them?

"Unbelievable," he mutters, taking Jim's hand from his chest and leading him towards Winona, who grins happily now that she knows she hasn't done anything wrong.

In the car, Winona blasts the heat to warm him and Jim while simultaneously going through her music library to find something they all will tolerate before she starts away from the shuttle port.

They're halfway to the Kirk farmhouse, when Jim says, "So the diversionary tactics were pretty good back there, but seriously. What color is your hair?"

Leonard represses a smile. It's going to be_ such_ a long week.


	21. Chapter 21

Winona made up all of the room in the farmhouse before she even came to gather Jim and Leonard from the shuttleport. There are five bedrooms, and four are being put back into use. On the ground floor, where she's putting Jim and Leonard, there's only one room, while on the second floor there are four, though the last one, Jim's old room has sort of become a second attic. Winona says she's going through some of the things in that room, trying to decipher what she wants to keep, give away, or incinerate. Jim is supposed to help, though Leonard doesn't quite know how he'll be able to.

Upstairs, Winona takes her room, and Joanna is sleeping in the room the room set up for guests, while Jocelyn takes up the room that Sam and his family usually sleep in.

Jim takes to following Winona around, trying to get her to divulge her new hair color to him. She's been pretty good about coming up with all colors of rainbows while not hinting at the actual color, which is actually a deep brown. Jim's probably asked everyone in the house a few times, but Winona had told them all not to reveal the secret to him while they'd been on the porch. She thinks it's a fun little game, and Jim seems to be enjoying pestering her every second that he can.

Leonard has a borrowed flashback to what Jim must have been like when he was Peter's age, following his mother around trying to guess at his birthday presents. Winona always says he was hell on wheels when he was a kid. Leonard thinks it's only barely gotten any better.

He takes their things to their room, taking in the way everything is still the same in the house, yet has somehow become more. Winona has a thing for flowers, wild flowers, and she buys them for every room. He has a vague memory of Jim at Starfleet Medical when he'd only just become blind. Winona had placed flowers in every corner of the room before looking completely stricken that Jim couldn't see them. He remembers her snatching a flower out of a vase and scooting next to Jim, freshly blind and refusing to do much more than sit with his eyes closed at that point in time.

He takes a deep breath as he remembers the way Winona pulled Jim's hand into hers, pressing one of his fingers to the petal, letting him feel it, the texture and the shape, before she forced his larger hand to close around the stem, making him hold it. To Leonard, it had looked like her grip around his fingers was the only thing keeping the flower in his grasp. She had whispered something in his ear, something Leonard had been too far away to hear, but it had made Jim's lips thin into a painfully happy grimace and his eyes squeeze tighter as if lost in a thought she had conjured for him.

When she had pulled her hand away, the flower had remained encased in Jim's hand.

She's put yellow flowers with bulbous black centers and some deep purple flower mixture on the dresser and one of the nightstands. Jim's side. How she knows which side of the bed Jim sleeps on is kind of unnerving, but Winona has the ability to unnerve him a lot. Nevertheless, she did know, and Leonard has the feeling Jim's side of the bed will always come with flowers from now on.

When he has the bags thrown on the bed for them to deal with later, he wanders back out into the main house. He hears laughter of Jim and the three women occupying the house. They'd been greeted outside. Jocelyn had been on the porch with her dainty little cigarette while Joanna was chowing down on what must have been half of Winona's kitchen content.

Apparently her metabolism was still stuck on turbo.

He hadn't really had the chance to speak with them though. He had been carrying his and Jim's suitcase and had spared brief hugs before rushing inside out of the cold.

Now though, he hears the laughter and spares a glancing hope that it isn't something at his expense. He puts that irrational fear aside as he steps into the kitchen (there are orange flowers arranged in here), where Jim, Jocelyn, and Joanna are arranged around the table and Winona sits on her countertop with a cup of what is probably spiked coffee in her hands.

Joanna is shaking something small and bright green in her hands, proclaiming, "Okay! This one will be a snap. Promise."

From the counter Winona chimes in, "It should be. He's eaten more of those in his life than half the world in one year."

Joanna stops shaking the container enough to where Leonard has a good look at it. Its nail varnish. Bright green nail varnish and Joanna is pulling off the cap and carefully waving the open top under Jim's nose.

His own nose wrinkles in distaste, because he knows how that crap smells and it isn't pleasant at all.

Jim, though, inhales deeply, his eyes moving around rapidly like they always do when he's searching through his expansive mind for something particular. Leonard goes over to stand beside Winona, watching the scene with a tilted head.

A half a beat goes by before Jim smiles. "Green apple. Light green!" he exclaims.

Jocelyn and Joanna share grins, as the young woman returns the brush to the bottle and reaches for a different one, this one bright red. "Alright," Joanna says with an exuberant grin, now without braces. "This one is a little harder, but I'm convinced you can do it."

Jocelyn leans forward just a bit. "Try not to think of candy. Remember. Fruit."

Leonard is completely confused as to what this is.

Winona tilts toward him, her eyes also riveted to the scene, but she whispers to him as their three J's continue this odd game. "I found them on my last assignment. A cosmetic company wasn't far away from where I was working and I met a young man nice enough to show me some of the wares."

Jim sniffs at the container that Joanna has just been open and declares, "Strawberry…" There's a long pause. "Red?"

Jocelyn nods rapidly. "Yep! Got it in one. This one is like a bright red though. Not like the cherry a few sniffs back."

Winona smiles at them, before continuing with Leonard. "The polish smells like fruits."

Leonard smiles too.

Jim is smelling color.


End file.
